They were taken up; and Harry's eyes were gladdened by such a sight as he had never beheld before. The hungry ate; and every mouthful they took swelled the heart of the little almoner of God's bounty. If the thought of Julia Bryant, languishing on a bed of sickness, had not marred his satisfaction, he had been perfectly happy. But he was doing a deed that would rejoice her heart; he was doing just what she had done for him; he was doing just what she would have done, if she had been there.
"She hoped he would be a good boy." His conscience told him he had been a good boy—that he had been true to himself, and true to the noble example she had set before him.
While the family were still at supper, Harry, lighting another candle, went down cellar to pay his respects to those big logs. He was a stout boy, and accustomed to the use of the axe. By slow degrees he chipped off the logs, until they were used up, and a great pile of serviceable wood was before him. Not content with this, he carried up several large armfuls of it, which he deposited by the fireplace in the room.
"Now, marm, I don't know as I can do anything more for you to-night," said he, moving towards the door.
"The Lord knows you have done enough," replied the poor woman. "I hope we shall be able to pay you for what you have done."
"I don't want anything, marm."
"If we can't pay you, the Lord will reward you."
"I am paid enough already. I hope you will get better, marm."
"I hope so. I feel better to-night than I have felt before for a week."
"Good night, marm! Good night, Katy!" And Harry hurried back to the stable.